


The Road to Somewhere

by Hallianna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hawke is a badass, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: How easy is it to tell a friend you're in love with them?  For Varric, it's a never-ending struggle, especially when Hawke and her motorcycle show up at his house weekly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tempered_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/gifts).



> Request: I'm feeling like a modern!au if possible where Hawke is the badass she is and he's absolutely in love with her. Not quite a manic pixie dream girl, but something perhaps like that? If it helps, I'm thinking something where "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys would be like their theme song. Roadtrip fic? I don't know. I just would love to see more of these two.
> 
> Beta-read by jegaphone.

The rumble outside his window could have been mistaken for thunder. 

It  _ could _ have.  But he knew better.  That rumble was the most predictable thing in his life right now, since the opinions of his editors and the bitching of his assistant flung from whim to whim on an hourly, sometimes minute-by-minute, basis.

So the one constant in his life should have made him leap from his chair and throw his front door wide open.  Glancing at the paper strewn every-fucking-where is certainly what made him pause.

It was windy outside and he didn’t want to lose his work.

A heavy knock sounded and his heart stuck somewhere near his throat.  Yep, his  _ papers _ were why he hesitated.

It had nothing to do with that little electric thrill down his spine when he thought of her standing outside.  Waiting on him.

Knowing he needed to work but not caring, now he  _ did _ abandon his chair and overburdened desk to answer the knock, snagging his coat from the hallway rack on his way.  He shrugged it on just as another knock came.

He hastily brushed the hair out of his eyes and opened the door.  

She painted the perfect picture of menace. Wrapped in black leather from shoulders to boots, hair artfully mussed and aviator sunglasses perched high on her head, Hawke looked down at him, expressionless.  

A moment passed.  

He met her eyes, despite the fact that she  _ towered _ over him.  Her gaze trailed over his form and he felt it like a touch, but he didn’t dare spoil the moment.  

Finally, in that gravel-rough voice of hers, she said, “New coat?”

He fingered the fine amber leather and shrugged.  “You did keep bugging me to get a new one.”

One dark eyebrow slowly rose.  “You name this one, too?”

“Not yet.”  He crossed his arms.  “But I was thinking about Bianca.”

“Bianca?”  Her voice was so dry she could have cracked every cactus in twenty square miles.  “Really?”

“I suppose I could have named it ‘Archibald’ but I was never a fan of pretentiousness.”  He paused.  “Or the name Archibald.”

Her mouth twitched and he suspected she was chewing on the inside of her cheek at this point.  “Pretentious is definitely not the word I would use for you.”

“Oh no?”

She held out a gloved fist and ticked off a finger at each word.  “Actually, I have four.  Pain.  In.  My.  Ass.”

He laughed, felt the lightness of it in his chest.  “Aw, but I’m the only one you love.”

She blew out a sigh.  “Yeah, yeah.”  And she stepped back enough to let him see the gleaming bike behind her.  “So are we going or what?” she asked as she slipped her sunglasses on.

Varric clapped his hands together and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.  “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Hawke had already started to walk to the bike but looked over her shoulder at him.  “You just say that so you can look at my ass.”

He snapped his fingers, now grinning. “Damn, you caught me.”

“You could at least be subtle about it,” she retorted as she flung a long leg over the bike.

“Why?”  He hoisted himself up on the bike behind her and put his hands on the familiar, yet respectable, place above her waist.  “I thought you liked it when people stared at you.”

“That’s because when they’re staring, they’re usually trying to give me a wide berth.  Supposedly I scare people.  You’re not most people, Varric.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced back at him.  “I don’t keep you around for your jokes.”

“Ouch.”

Now she grinned, a nearly feral thing that would have certainly made lesser souls run for the hills.  He hadn’t stuck with her this long to be thwarted by a mere smile.  “You know what I mean.”

He wagged a finger at her.  “I keep telling you,  _ words mean things _ .  Advice I don’t dole out lightly.”

She started the bike and the roar of the engine nearly drowned out her next words.  “We going or what?”

He made a “Go on” gesture with his hand, immediately returning his grip to the heavy leather of her jacket.

Because Hawke was nothing but predictable when it came to her bike.  Engines burning hot, she gunned the machine and they launched forward, peeling out of his driveway and down the street.  As familiar as it was, that heart-stopping initial lurch forward always took him a little by surprise.  The first few times it’d happened, he wound up smacking his forehead into her shoulder blades.

After she laughed herself silly, to the point where she had to shut the bike off to keep from spilling them both into the road, he vowed to never again be undone by her monster of a machine.

“I gotta new route for us, if that’s okay,” she shouted as they tore down the road.

“That’s fine, just get my ass out of the house!” he yelled back.  She gave him a thumbs up in reply.

He never knew where they were going on these weekly rides and he didn’t care.  It was him, her, the open road, and probably some questionable roadside food.

Balm to the harried writer’s soul.

 

* * *

  
The rides had started when Hawke had moved to his neck of the woods.  He hadn’t wanted to move away from her, away from a life that was comfortable and familiar, but some part of him had severe wanderlust.  Coupled with the fact that he’d been offered his dream job in a part of the country he’d always wanted to spend more time in, and he was sold.  But leaving her...yeah, that had sucked.

And when he’d told Hawke about the job, she’d done pretty much what he had figured - said it was a great chance for him, he had to go, blah blah.  All the things a true best friend would say.

But when he confessed he’d miss her terribly and he hoped she didn’t think badly about him for wanting to take this chance, her face had softened just a little.  That hard face, with all its sharp angles and steep planes composed of skin pulled tight over a fine bone structure…that face he’d known and loved for years.  

_ Don’t you worry about me, she’d said as she unfurled from the big, pea-green armchair he’d kept more out of convenience than aesthetic.  She’d sat beside him, holding his hands in hers, staring down at him. _

_ Don’t you worry about me, Varric.  I’ll get along.  Like I always do.  And we’ll see each other.  Plus, we do have phones. _

He’d been living on the coast for a few years, making trips back to see her and his hometown (and his mother, if he could get her away from his piece of shit brother and father).  And in exchange, Hawke would drive out in her old as dirt truck a few times a year, usually once the seasons had turned cooler.  

But when she finally (finally) moved near him, where the jobs were better and she didn’t need to spend half her paycheck on gas, she’d taken what she’d had saved up and bought a bike.   _ Trust me, it’s fun, she’d said as he eyed the gleaming chrome exhaust pipes and red flames painted on the sides of sparkling black panels.  You do trust me, right Varric? _

Yeah, he trusted her.  To the ends of the earth and back.  Because no one was like her.  Friends for over a decade and he was just now figuring out that this woman was the only one who really mattered.

If he’d had the kind of foresight others wrote into their novels, he would have realized that over the years, there was a reason each of their romantic relationships had repeatedly fizzled out.  He’d told himself that he was too focused on work.  And Hawke... well, Hawke didn’t like to be tied down.

But wherever he went, she found him.  She didn’t chase him.  That wasn’t in her personality.  She led, never followed.  Their bond, something stronger than friendship and just as undefinable, persevered across long miles and was conveyed through millions of moments.

“Hold on!” she yelled over her shoulder, shaking him from his reverie.  “I found us a new spot to eat!”

And he watched as a new version of the dusty landscape slowly came into view, tumbleweeds and cacti sticking out against a flat horizon.  Hawke steered the bike up to a nearing roadside stand, its bright white paint and cheery red lettering out of place among the brown surroundings.

The bike now stopped, Varric got a better look at the stand.  But even his writer’s eyes didn’t distract from the  _ amazing _ smell coming from the smoking wood stove on its side.  “What IS that?” he asked, not able to keep the awe out of his voice.

Hawke grinned at him.  “My new favorite joint.  Come on, I’m starving.”

He wasn’t surprised.  She was  _ always _ starving.

He followed behind, still gaping a bit at the strangest roadside stand he’d ever seen, complete with little bar stools on the opposite end of the long, low counter.  The wind blew the fragrant smoke directly at him and he inhaled, then sighed.

_ What in the hell was that amazing smell? _

But Hawke either wasn’t as shocked or, as he figured, had frequented this stand enough in recent memory to not be surprised.  That was her to a T - find something she liked and she’d become its best customer and loudest mouthpiece.

Hawke ambled right up to the counter and leaned on it.  “What’s on the menu today?”

And as Varric approached, the owner of the stand came into view.  Well, he assumed she was the owner because other than he and Hawke, she was the only person in sight.  The biggest, sturdiest woman he’d ever seen (the surprises just kept coming), she stood at least six and a half feet tall.  Short dark hair and eyes and a slash of a mouth made up a face like granite and was, he figured, probably as immovable.

As he drew closer, he saw the woman’s mountainous form, including sloping shoulders and muscled arms that made her bright white apron look four sizes too small.  Curiosity ate at him, but he stood a respectful distance away while Hawke talked to the other woman.  Sometimes it paid more to observe, rather than barge in and start asking questions.

Not waiting for an answer to her question, Hawke sniffed the air and smiled.  “Please tell me that’s carnitas.”

The woman slammed a pan down on the counter and grunted.  “I thought you had at least some manners.”  She huffed, slammed another pan, and Varric winced at the ringing sound.  “You can’t even greet me?”

The smile on Hawke’s face grew wider but her tone grew bland.  “Hello, Shale. How are you today?  I’m fine.  Thanks for asking.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “I thought we were past civilities at this point.”

Shale huffed one more time but reached down and drew forth a bottle of beer, dripping ice chips onto the counter. She handed it to Hawke and said, “And I figure I see you and your appetite enough to warrant a little civility.”

“I pay you for the amazing food and beer, Shale.”

“Yes, and I keep feeding you.”  She shook a spatula at Hawke. “Manners cost nothing.”  She craned her head and locked eyes with Varric.  “This your friend?”

“Yep.”

Shale waved the spatula at him.  “Then get over here and get fed.”  The spatula jabbed at Hawke.  “I’m not starting a tab for you just because you brought a friend.”

Not one to ignore such a…fervent beckoning, Varric ambled over to the stool to Hawke’s right and took a seat.  The back wall of the stand, some fifteen feet from him, was an impressively organized array of cooking tools. Each pan, spoon, whisk, and knife had its own place, their outlines lovingly traced on the wood.  He instantly liked this huge, gruff woman.  “Varric Tethras, pleased to meet you.”  He shot her a winning smile.  “I take it you and Hawke are friends?”

Shale sniffed and started pulling bowls out of a nearby refrigerator unit.  “ _ Friends _ ask each other how they are.”

Hawke crossed her arms.  “A friend wouldn’t charge me full price for her spectacular food.”

“Friends would know that a business owner has to make a living and -”

Varric held out his hands, biting back a chuckle.  “Ladies, ladies.  Please.”  He pulled out his wallet and slapped a fifty on the counter.  “Let me buy the best food you have, plus beers.”  He winked at Shale.  “And Hawke will tip.   _ Generously _ .”

Hawke spun on her stool just to glare at him.  “Varric.”

“Hawke.”

“Oh good, you know each other’s names.”  Shale slapped two chinette plates in front of them.  “Do you want burritos or not?”

 

* * *

 

Properly full and wind-tussled, they arrived back at his house hours later, just as the sun was going down.  He invited her in for coffee and as she sat at his kitchen table, he watched her from the corner of his eye.  The conversation with Shale had been…not terribly enlightening, but highly entertaining nonetheless.  

He’d figured out years ago that Hawke was his perfect enigma - mysterious, a little odd, sometimes frustrating, and ultimately, the only person he enjoyed viewing through other people’s eyes.  Varric trusted his writer’s eyes to catch what others missed, to see the signs and subtleties that eluded most.  But Hawke was the one person - the  _ only _ person - he’d never truly sorted out.

And as the years passed and they traversed the ups and downs of their separate lives, Hawke changed little, in personality or appearance. She handled catastrophe and victory with an even-handedness he admired, but she could be stubborn enough to cause some of that catastrophe all by herself.

Varric had been there through everything - the glee on her face when she bought her house near him; the sadness that coursed through her as they sat beside her mother’s casket; the joy he felt for her as she found a real calling working with underprivileged kids.

She was his perfect enigma.  His perfect everything.  And he’d known that for years but for some reason, just now felt brave enough to do anything about it.  Oh, he’d dreamed up all kinds of scenarios where he confessed his feelings for her.  Some were romantic, some were goofy, but all ended with him spilling his guts.  But trust was brittle thing, even the kind of trust they had.

And the last thing he wanted to do was fracture that trust.  Or spoil their friendship.  And any writer worth their salt knew that the friends to lovers trope didn’t always end well.

Coffee cups filled to the brim in hand, he placed one in front of her and took the seat to her right.  “You know, we really ought to go on a trip up the coastline on that bike of yours,” he said, smiling at her.  “I bet there’s all kinds of roadside stands we haven’t met yet.”

She took a huge gulp of the steaming coffee before responding.  “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.  “Hell yes.”  

He eyed her half empty mug.  “More?”

“Nah.  I gotta get to bed early tonight.  Some of the kids want to go on a sunrise hike tomorrow, so I offered to chaperone with Merrill.”

He fought back a smile.   _ My perfect enigma indeed _ .  “Songbird Trail?”

“Yeah, down to the cliff and back.  Most of them haven’t been out there, so they’re excited.”  Her eyes went soft.  “They’re good kids, they just don’t get many opportunities.”

The gentleness on her face and in her tone had him reaching for her hand.  “If you hadn’t stepped up to lead that group, those kids wouldn’t have any opportunities.”

Her long, calloused fingers wrapped around his and the strength of her grasp made him lean forward.  “You know, you’re the only person to tell me that other than Merrill.  I mean, everyone else was supportive but you and her, you just….you just understood.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug despite the warmth of her praise coursing through him.  “It’s what I do.”

At that, Hawke gave him a lingering, knowing look.  The warmth didn’t leave her eyes, but her face took on a keen look that made him feel like she was pulling some secret out him, without a word.

And after a long moment, she let his hand go with a final pat.  “All right. I gotta get home. Thanks for the coffee.”

He stood as she did, walking her to the door.  “Thanks for the ride.  And the food.”

That made her smile.  “Shale’s my favorite.”

“I can see why.  Those burritos are were amazing.”

“Wait until you have her flautas.”  She paused, hand on the door handle.  “Hey Varric?  Thanks.”

He cocked his head.  “For what?”

“For everything.”  And she bent down and kissed his cheek.  “I don’t say that enough.  I’m trying to rectify some mistakes I’ve made in the past, so I figured I’d start here.”

His cheek tingled where her lips had touched it and he felt a rattle near his heart he expected wouldn’t soon go away.  “Yeah, I mean…anything for you, Hawke.”

“I know.”

And she left.  He watched her get on her bike, rev the engine, and peel out of his driveway, leaving smoke in her wake.  

_ Next time _ , he thought as she disappeared down the road.   _ Next time, I’ll tell her. _


End file.
